


A Last Request

by Abbyromana



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbyromana/pseuds/Abbyromana
Summary: After the funeral for Bruce Wayne, Damian is left with a load of new responsibilities. Some he expected - i.e. protecting Gotham and running Wayne Industries. Others he wasn't sure if he could stand - i.e. dealing with guardianship of his young, adopted brothers: Jason and Dick, and fulfilling a list of final requests from his father. However, the very last request might just prove to be his downfall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoku/gifts).



> This is a gift for the Batfamily Christmas Exchange 2017  
> PROMPT: Reverse Age AU. Damian, having to take the mantle of the bat from his (assumed) deceased Father, has to finally deal with his wayward sibling, Tim Drake, something he's been putting off for far to long. Tim, who has had a rocky relationship with the family since his revival, is teetering on more than one edge, and though Damian is probably the last one that should be saving him, he's got to try.  
> Optional Bonus 1: Young adorable Jason or Dick as Dami's Robin (or even both!?!).  
> Optional Bonus 2: Tim has serious depression issues, and Damian probably didn't realize it before this.

A red hooded figure in a brown leather jacket stood before the freshly turned ground.

His icy blue gaze was locked on the black stone memorial covered in snow. It wasn’t the tallest tombstone amongst the family plot nor the most exquisitely designed. Rather, the hooded figure was captivated by how the snow encircled the name on the stone:

BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE

The figure knelt before the grave site. He touched the cold ground and dipped his gaze. He was thinking about the man buried below. The man who had changed his life so many years ago. The heroic icon who trained him to be the very best.

A huge smile colored his pale face. “I was the best. You told me that! No better Robin!” A self-satisfied chuckle flew passed his lips. “Or was that just what you told us all?” His words dripped with sarcasm, leaving a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and blew out a cold breath. He refocused himself on why he had come. Looking back down, he picked up a hand full of dirt and spoke solemnly, “We come from dust; we return to dust”. He tried to whisper the biblical passage as he remembered it from his youth, but another dark, unpleasant thought crossed his mind.

A sneer marred his face. “At least for those allowed to return to dust… by those who claim to love them. Right, Bruce?” There was venom to his words as he clenched the fist of dirt. The hooded figure tried to contain his rage. Clumps of dirt tumbled between his gloved fingers. “Why didn’t you just let me die? I had earned that right! Wasn’t I a good Robin, like you said? Didn’t I always listen to you, no matter how ridiculous the order? So why? Why did you have to choose to put me in that… that pit? You ruined me! Made me into…”

He vigorously shook his head. “But now you’re gone, and I can’t make you pay for what you’ve done. Can’t make you understand how much you hurt me. Damaged me!” His gaze locked coldly onto Wayne Manor. “So instead, I’ll do the next best thing. I’ll take from the others you’ve left behind. Punish them!” He rose to his feet and drew in another cold breath. “I’m going to be the hero Gotham deserves and clean up the mess you’ve left us in.”

Smirking to himself, the hooded figure, pulled a crooked blade from his jacket and started towards the Manor. “No one’s going to stand in my way. No one.”

oOo

“I miss him, Jason.” The voice was wispy.

If Wayne Manor had been filled with the usual loud party noises, Jason doubted he’d have heard it. But the event going on was much more somber. Up on the family’s floor of bedrooms, only the occasional tick of this floor’s grandfather clock could be heard.

As he had done every time the boy had said those words, Jason paused a moment to strengthen his voice. “I know, Dick. I miss him, too.” These three weeks had been a turbulent time for all of them and the youngest, adopted son had taken it particularly hard. Little over two years ago, Dick had lost his birth parents in a circus accident. Jason knew he was struggling with losing another parent.

Of course, he was one to talk. Jason wasn’t dealing much better. He had spent more time hitting punching bags than his school books. Only reason he wasn’t a complete mess was his Teen Titan friends.

As they walked side by side towards their adjoining bedrooms, Jason spared a brief glance in Dick’s direction. The younger boy’s arms hugged his black suited body. His usual deep blue eyes were very red now. Jason guessed they were as red as his own. Sniffing slightly, Jason jerked his gaze away to look down over the banister to the main entry way.

Down on the main floor, Jason could see the last of the funeral guests leaving. Alfred was seeing them out. Off to one side, he saw the tall, burly form of Damian Wayne. The man was currently doing a damn fine impression of Bruce Wayne’s scowl.

It caused a sharp pain in the pit of Jason’s stomach. He felt a sob about to choke him.

The sob stopped short when he saw Damian’s face grow slack. His eyes were wide one moment. The next, he blinked as if fighting off tears of his own. For maybe the first time ever, Jason felt sorry for his older brother. He started to believe the arrogant jerk might actually care.

Then, Damian happened to glance upward and spotted Jason watching him. Immediately, Damian wiped something from his eyes and his look hardened. His lips moved as if making a silent and dismissive “Tt” noise. Then, he turned and marched into the study with his chin raised.

“Fuck you, Demon Spawn,” Jason growled under his breath.

“What was that, Jason?” Dick asked.  

Jason’s eyes widened as his attention snapped back to Dick. The younger boy had stopped in step. His arms hung at his sides. Jason blushed as he realized he had sworn in front of Dick. He had promised Bruce never to do that. Even if the man was dead, Jason could at least try to keep his promises.

Snapping on a fake smile, he reached for Dick’s hand. “Nothing. Come on! Let’s get you ready for bed.”

The younger boy’s brow furrowed skeptically. Despite that, he didn’t argue.

oOo

Damian was cursing under his breath about snooping teens and pushy, tight-wearing superheroes. At the same time, he was digging through the mountain of paperwork on top of his father’s vast and sturdy, oak desk. To anyone else, it looked like a mess of files, receipt, schematics, and doodles. In fact, they were perfectly organized in a way that was uniquely Bruce Wayne.

As he dug through a stack of files on Bruce Wayne’s personal finances, Damian heard the study door being shut. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Pennyworth. The white-haired man servant had mentioned he needed to have a private word with Damian more than a week ago. Damian had been putting it off.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Damian pretended not to hear the approaching footsteps or the soft cough. He didn’t want to admit he was afraid of what Pennyworth wanted to talk about. He had ideas; none of them Damian liked.

Most likely it was about his father’s death. Despite nearly everyone bringing it up to him, Damian had managed to avoid blathering on and on about it. He knew Todd had talk in great lengths with his Teen Titan friends and a few of the Justice League members. Superman, the Flash, and Grayson’s friend, Kid Flash, had sat him down to talk about it. Damian had no doubt they needed it.

As far as Damian was concerned, he did not.

He knew everything there was to know about his father’s death. Over two weeks ago, Batman and the Justice League had been fighting Darkseid. He had been trying to save the world, likely the entire universe. He made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. He had died a hero. There was no greater way to die. As for Bruce Wayne, a week ago it was reported that the playboy billionaire had died tragically in a plane crash over the Indian Ocean on his way to a business meeting in Indonesia. No body was recovered.

Feelings didn’t really matter. Yes, he missed his father. He had told everyone that. Other than that, there was no need to dwell on it. He had said as much to both Wonder Woman and Superman when they cornered him at different times during the wake. He even told Jon Kent that each time he stopped by over the last two weeks for a talk.

Rather, Damian wanted to focus his time and effort on getting everything stable again. That’s what he was doing right now. That was his only focus. Everything else had to wait.

A second possible topic concerned Damian a bit more. He feared Pennyworth might be turning in his resignation as the Waynes’ butler. After all, Damian was sure there was nothing to keep the older man here. He had no obligation to Damian like he did his father. Pennyworth had been Bruce’s guardian and surrogate father. He practically raised him. Damian was just the annoying imposition left over from the fling between Tala al Guhl and Bruce Wayne. Besides, they had been in conflict from the first day he was brought to Wayne Manor. Add on everything else that had happened recently, Damian could imagine Pennyworth just wanted to get away.

Still, Damian knew he needed the older man. Gotham was in upheaval and the police didn’t seem to be able to handle it. Wayne Industries had been thrown into chaos. Stock prices were dropping every day. The board was arguing whether to accept Damian as CEO or accept the offer from Lance Powers, who held the next highest amount of the company’s shares. Then, various superheroes had been whispering questions about the Batman legacy. Some people had even openly spoken about their doubts of Damian taking the mantel. On top of that, Damian had to deal with Todd and Grayson. That’s what genuinely terrified him. He didn’t know what he’d do without Pennyworth.

“Master Damian, I think it’s time we had that talk,” Pennyworth started off simply.

Daring a glance up from the paperwork, Damian saw Pennyworth pull an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. Instantly, Damian felt his heart stop and his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to scream, but all he managed was a weak, “No.”

Pennyworth must have heard him, because he raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Excuse me, sir?”

“No,” Damian forced himself to say. It didn’t sound much louder, but he hoped the meaning was clear. “I don’t accept. You’re needed here.” Damian’s mind raced faster than his mouth could keep up. He was on his feet in seconds, leaning across the desk. “Don’t… don’t you get it. There’s too… too… too much to do. The others need you!”

He saw the man servant take a step back. “Excuse me? I don’t quite…”

“The boys. Todd and Grayson. Or had you so arrogantly forgotten, so completely overlooked them?!” Damian said angrily. Taking a step back himself, he took a quick and shaky breath, before he started pacing towards the fireplace. “I… I… I don’t know the first thing about raising children. Father never talked about that. I doubt it… it even crossed his mind! And mother and the League of Assassins certainly never covered how best to raise a child, certainly nothing like those two troublemakers. And… and they are! You’ve seen the trouble Todd gets into. Fights at school! Skipping classes to go hang out with the Teen Titans. And Dick is an unpredictable circus monkey. How am I supposed to handle that?!”

Damian didn’t dare turn back as he stared down into the roaring fire of the fireplace. Still, he heard Pennyworth say, “Master Damian…”

“And considering all that’s happened,” Damian interrupted Pennyworth. “What’s continuing to happen since the rumor of Batman’s death has started to spread in Gotham. And that Powers guy, trying to buy controlling shares of Wayne Industries… I need someone here to maintain the façade of normalcy about the Waynes, until order can be restored.” Pounding his fist into the wooden mantel of the fireplace, Damian said firmly and loudly, “No! No, I cannot accept your resignation! I won’t allow it! Do you hear me?!”

oOo

Jason dug through the dresser drawers retrieving flannel sleep clothes for himself and for Dick. Behind him, he heard Dick shifting around on his bed. “What is it?”

“Jason,” Dick said with a tone of hesitance. “Do you… do you like me?”

Jason glanced over his shoulder with a sarcastic grin. “You’re an irritating squirt, but no more irritating than Damian.”

“Oh,” Dick said flatly.

As he pulled out Dick’s Superman pajamas, he paused in thought. He didn’t understand why Dick had asked him that. Part of him wanted to brush it off as a stupid question of a ten-year-old to fill the uncomfortable silence, but something about it nagged at Jason. It wasn’t the sort of question the circus brat usually asked. They were often full of curiosity and framed in a disgustingly cheerful way. Of course, things were far from usual lately.

Then, Jason heard Dick ask another question. “Do you… do you think Damian likes me? Do you think he still wants me to be Robin?”

This time Jason turned fully around and frowned at Dick. “What does it matter if Damian likes you? Why does it matter if anyone likes you, Dickie? Why are you asking these stupid questions?” He didn’t mean to sound so angry, but he was more than frustrated with the younger boy.

Dick dipped his head as his face grew red. He more whispered than spoke. “I’m just worried. That’s all.”

Pausing a moment, Jason tried the tactics Bruce had taught him to control his anger. He drew in a deep breath and counted. Once he felt more in control, he asked, “That’s all? What do you have to be worried about?”

Jason noticed a tremble to Dick’s shoulders. In a tight voice, Dick spoke. “I… I don’t want to get sent away again.”

Jason felt his heart instantly skip a beat. His mouth fell open as he stared at Dick.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Dick seemed to be struggling. “When my parents died, the… the Gotham officers said I couldn’t stay with the Circus, with Mr. Haley and the others. They sent me away to this place... this orphanage. And… and they weren’t very nice there. The other kids… they… they beat me up every day. They made fun of me just because... and took my things and… and it was awful! So awful, I tried to run away.”

Dick sniffled. He wiped his nose on his white shirt sleeve. “That’s how I met Batman. He found me on a train station rooftop. He told me to go back and wait. That I was going to be okay. I’d get a new home, a good home… soon.” Raising his gaze, Dick’s tear-filled eyes met Jason’s gaze. “And I did! But with Bruce gone… I just…” Dick’s voice broke. He turned his gaze away as he gasped out a breath and tried to speak on. “… I don’t want to lose another family.”

Jason felt tears in his own eyes. He couldn’t fathom why this horrible thought had even crossed Dick’s mind, but he wanted it gone. Mustering his biggest smile, he called out to Dick. “Hey, Little Wing! Catch!”

Dick turned sharply only to get a face full of his Superman pajamas. As the younger boy was stammering to grasp what had just happened, Jason strode over to the bed. He purposefully towered over Dick, so the boy had to look up at him. “You are an idiot, Little Wing!” declared Jason, openly chuckling.

Dick’s shocked expression changed to one of irritation. He frowned up at Jason. “No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are,” said Jason, leaning down. He placed a hand on either side of Dick, so that they came face to face. “You are an idiot if you think you can leave us, if anything can take you away. Sorry, Little Wing, you’re stuck with this family.”

Dick’s frown turned to a look of shock again, and in almost the same second, it became a look of relief. “I am?”

“You’re a Robin!” Jason pointed out. To emphasize, he poked Dick in the chest. “That means you will always be one of us. No matter what.”

For the first time in too long, Jason saw one of Dick Grayson’s patented beaming grins. “Thanks. Thank you… Big Wing.”

“No problem, Little Wing,” Jason replied. “Now you get ready, while I go grab us some milk and cookies from the kitchen.” He ruffled Dick’s hair, earning a playful swat from Dick.

As he closed the door to Dick’s room, Jason missed how a shadow moved independently from the rest. A dark figure in a brown leather jacket and red hoodie smirked. He intently watched the distracted Dick Grayson. He pulled his knife from his pocket and exited the bathroom.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions between Jason and Damian mount as Tim Drake's plan unfolds. What does the second Robin have in store for his fellow Robins? Can they save Dick Grayson or is it too late already?

A puff of laughter caught Damian off guard.

He turned sharply around. Across the room, Damian saw Pennyworth standing on the other side of the desk. There was a bemused expression on the older man’s face. “Sometimes, you remind me so much of your father.”

Furrowing his brow, he stared perplexed back. “I’m being quite serious, Pennyworth.”

Placing his hands behind him, Pennyworth gave a few brief nods. “Oh, of that I’m quite sure you are. But you are also being quite unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic!” Damian shouted. He strode back towards the desk. “I’m putting my foot down! I’m not letting you quit. I refuse! And if I must… I’ll… I’ll make you stay!”

That earned him a cold look in return. Damian had learned long ago what that meant. Unlike his father, he had the good sense to blink and catch his temper before he made the situation worse.

In the moment of quiet, Pennyworth spoke. “I think you’ve said quite enough, young sir! You’ve made yourself clear and now, so shall I. I am not resigning my post.”

“Oh?” Damian’s anger quickly ebbed away. With the release of a breath, Damian relaxed his posture.

“Indeed, I have no intention of leaving this family, not now, not ever,” Pennyworth stated. Then paused as if considering his words. “True, I have left my post… temporarily… when your father pushed me to the breaking point with his need to put himself, you, and the others in harm’s way.” His eyes closed as if remembering those times, remembering the man they buried this afternoon. “Those were extreme circumstances. And I’ll admit, I let my own temper get the better of me, just as much as your father did his. But I have learned you are not your father. At times, you are better than him.”

Despite himself, a small smile crept over Damian’s lips.

“You have his temper, but you rein it in better. Perhaps it is wisdom from your mother’s side,” Pennyworth went on. “None the less, I do not see myself leaving again. That is for the sake of those two children as much as the young man standing before me. For as much as you and I do not always see eye to eye, you and I share in the legacy left by Master Bruce. Those boys are a part of that.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Pennyworth,” Damian said with a look of relief. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “But then… if that isn’t what you wanted to talk about, then…”

“It is about your father,” Pennyworth started to explain.

Damian’s lips tightened. He leaned forward and spoke louder than probably necessary. “I don’t want to talk about my father’s death! I thought I made that clear!”

Pennyworth gave a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I heard what you told Master Clark and Miss Diana. I heard you repeat it many times tonight. I disagree with your curtness towards those who only seek to support you and this family. And I still think you need to talk about it, but no, that’s not what I mean.” Once more, Alfred reached into his interior jacket pocket. He pulled out the envelope from before.

Again, Damian found himself taking the seat behind the desk.

“Before your father died, he asked me to give you this envelope upon his death.” He reached out the envelope to Damian.

Damian felt his world freeze as he just stared at the envelope.

oOo

Jason happily hummed to himself.

He placed four of Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies on a plate, grabbing a fifth to pop into his mouth. Then, he placed the plate on a wooden tray with two tall glasses of milk. Lifting it, he headed out of the kitchen and towards the grand staircase.

Then he heard Damian’s raised voice. “I don’t want to talk about my father’s death!”

Jason paused only long enough to roll his eyes. With a mouth full of cookie, he muttered curses about the now oldest Wayne.

Jason had never really gotten along with Damian. Even sparring seemed more than just practice between them. In fact, his first broken wrist had happened in the Batcave during one sparring match. Bruce had scolded Damian, and Damian had apologized, sort of. Then, Bruce had pushed them to spend time together and get to know each other. They had hung out, but they had nothing in common. He’d been fine with that. Jason was too busy with his Teen Titans at that point to really care. Only on occasion, their paths did cross as Robin and Nightwing. Damian’s friends got along fine with Jason’s Teen Titans. It was more Damian that was the issue. Then, Dick came into the family and Jason was busy helping Bruce train him.

Thinking about the youngest Wayne, Jason continued up the stairs. As he approached Dick’s bedroom, he called out, “Hey, open up, Little Wing! I bring cookies!”

Stopping at the closed door, he waited to hear the excited footsteps. None came.

“Dick?” called Jason. “Open up! My hands are full.”

Still, no response came.

Frowning, Jason put the tray down to one side of the door. Then, he reached for the knob and opened the door. “Dick?” He was surprised to see the bedroom was mostly dark and eerily cold. Something didn’t feel right to Jason.

Stepping inside, Jason noted one of the bedroom windows was open, causing snowflakes to cover one nightstand. There was also a soft glow, but it wasn’t coming from the bathroom. That remained dark. It appeared to be coming from the other side of Dick’s bed. Jason hurried over and found Dick’s Superman lamp lying on the floor. In its glow, Dick’s dress clothes were in a heap on the floor. There was a sheet of paper lying on top of them.

Jason didn’t hesitate to snatch it up and read it:

 

_‘Demon Spawn,_

_I have your Robin._

_If you want him back alive, be at the KGTH substation on Dixon Docks by midnight. Come alone. Or you’ll have a dead Robin on your head again._

_Let’s see who really is worthy of being Batman._

_T.D.’_

oOo

Damian’s shoulders sunk. He just blinked at Pennyworth. His throat tightened. 

For a long moment, Damian’s gaze focused on the out stretched hand of the man servant. A forbearing pain gnawed at his stomach. “Pennyworth?” He almost didn’t recognize his own voice. It sounded too soft and infantile.

Pennyworth must have understood Damian’s distress. He sighed deeply, before putting on a kind smile. “I know this is hard. All of this, but this is nothing to be afraid of, Master Damian. Master Bruce, your father, wanted me to give this letter to you. I’m sure he wanted you to have some closure.”

Damian felt his hands tremble on the desk top. The thought of showing fear kicked in a need to fight it. Gripping them both into fists, Damian mentally scolded himself. Closing his eyes for a brief second, he put on his best stern expression. Then, he met the older man’s gaze again. “Thank you, Pennyworth.” He quickly took the envelope. “If father needs me to do something, then I shall. I will honor him… and his wishes.”

The envelope was rather plain. The paper was a pale white color. It was taller than it was wide. Across the height was written: “Damian Wayne”. He instantly recognized his father’s handwriting.

With the greatest of care, Damian slid a letter opener along the top. Separating the paper sides, Damian peered inside. He saw three distinct items within. One was a set of two pages folded together. Another was a brass, old fashion key. The last was a very small thumb drive.

Damian pulled the sheets out and saw a letter scrawled in his father’s handwriting. Once again, there was a tightness to his throat. 

 

  _‘Damian,_

_Enclosed you’ll find a thumb drive and a very old key._

_The thumb drive contains several personal messages for you, Alfred, and others. There are things I should have said to you and the others many years ago. I’m truly sorry for that. But I want to tell you in my own words. Please see that each person gets their message, respectively._

_As for the key, it is to an old family heirloom – a Victorian trunk. Inside, you’ll find some of my most treasured possessions. They include items from my childhood as well as things more recent. I give them to you in hopes it will give you a better idea of who I was and why I made the decisions I did. Please don’t think that means my decisions need to dictate your own._

_Finally, I need your help to fulfill some final requests._

_First, as I’m sure you’ve already become aware, I need you to take responsibility for Jason and Dick. They are both young and need guidance and comfort in the time to come. I know you don’t have the strongest relationship with either of them, but I’m sure you, with Alfred’s help, can improve that. Don’t repeat my mistakes and distance yourself from your family, even if they aren’t your blood._

_Second, I ask you not to take up my mantel as Batman. I know this will probably be hard for you to hear with all your mother taught you, but as I said before, my past decisions should not dictate your future ones. You are my son, not Batman’s son. You have no obligation to continue this legacy. I would rather you focus on your family and friends. The League will understand. Others can take up the fight in my name. Let Batman simply be a legend to live on in the hearts and minds of Gotham. Protect your family first._

_Third, and the most difficult one for you has to do with someone you haven’t spoken to in a long time. I need you to…’_

 

Before Damian could read on, Todd suddenly burst through the study doors. A panicked look was on his face. His teal colored eyes were wide, but his teeth were clenched shut. A single, multi-colored paper was clutched tightly in his left hand. Damian swore he saw the outline of some sort of animal.

Alfred turned sharply giving the teen a scowl. “Master Jason, that is not how one enters…”

“Can it, Alfred!” Todd cut off the older man. Then he turned sharply to Damian, who also wore his own scowl. “He was here! He got in!”

Damian raised an eyebrow in question. The teen was being tactlessly vague. That irritated Damian. Then again, the younger man had never been very good at just getting to the point. It had always driven Damian mad. “Who was here? Be more…”

“Tim Drake! The Bad Robin!” Todd practically shouted. “He got into the Manor!”

That news brought Damian to his feet. A tightness constricted his vocal cords. His brain felt like it couldn’t comprehend what he had just heard. “Tim…” Just saying the name made him feel cold and empty as if he was just hearing about his father’s death all over again.

“Yes,” Jason shouted. “Drake!”

Swallowing the knot, Damian narrowed his gaze on Todd. “What? That can’t be! He shouldn’t be…” He stopped himself from finishing his sentence. It was ridiculous to argue with a fact, if the teen was telling the truth. Instead, he shifted his thinking and asked a different question. “How do you know?”

Despite being a scrawny teen, Todd had a good stride to his step. Waving the colored paper in the air, he declared, “He left a note… in Dick’s room.” Slapping the paper down on the desk, he spat out a curse word and then said, “He’s taken Dick!”

Damian couldn’t help how his eyes widened with shock. His mouth, on its own accord, asked, “What!” As Pennyworth spoke, Damian reached for the colored paper and read the note. His father’s words from his note suddenly cut deeper than a moment before.

A single thought washed over him.

_Not again! Please not again!_

“My word!” Pennyworth exclaimed. “You don’t think he intends…?”

Even though Damian saw Tim’s handwritten note in front of him, thoughts of many years ago came rushing into his head. His free hand covered his face as the sound of a different teen crying out his name repeatedly was suddenly drowned out by the sound of an explosion.

Only when he heard Todd’s angry voice did Damian get pulled back to the present. “I don’t think, Alfie,” Jason slammed his fist into the desk. “The note says as much. The pompous ass has taken Dick. He threatens to kill the kid, if Damian doesn’t agree to fight him over who gets to be The Batman.”

Catching his breath, Damian shook his head and lowered his hand. “Then he’s an idiot!” said Damian, slamming the paper back down on the desk. “If he wanted a fight, he didn’t have to take Grayson.”

“Clearly, he thought he could leverage Dick’s life against you,” Pennyworth pointed out. He was now looking down at the note himself. “In case you ignored his demands or tried to mount an attack against him. He must know he can’t take both you and Master Jason on.”

“I don’t care!” Todd stated. “Doesn’t give him the right to take Dick! The kid has nothing to do with this history stuff. He never knew Tim as Robin. He was never even here when Tim died or when he came after me. If he wanted leverage, he should have taken me!”

“No,” Damian disagreed. He gave Todd a silencing glare. For once, the teen shut his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tim didn’t need to do either. He knows better! An al Guhl always accepts a challenge to a fight.” Rubbing his chin, he frowned at the scribbled note. “Taking Grayson has other meaning to him… or he’s intended it to. I just don’t know what yet.”

Damian was lying. He had a sick feeling the real reason had to do with him. He had failed one Robin. Tim clearly wanted history to repeat itself. The cries of earlier filled his head again.

Once again, it was Todd’s voice that pulled him back. “Still don’t care! I just know… if he hurts one hair on Dick’s head, former Robin or not, I’m going to kill him!” 

oOo

The top of the radio station tower gave a perfect view of the east side of Gotham. Every siren could be heard. Every newly set fire could be seen flickering away. And best of all, the air smelled icy fresh, at least fresh for Gotham.

Despite the battle that lay ahead, Tim took a moment to appreciate being back in the city. It was just as he remembered it. In fact, from this view he could pretend he was seeing the city as he once did from his parent’s penthouse so many years ago. He could pretend that he was on their balcony, enjoying the falling snow. Any minute now, his father would call him in for dinner. His mother might nag him about piano practice.

Of course, that was more than a decade ago. That was before he became obsessed with Batman and started his investigation of the legend. It was before he was given the title of Robin.  Long before, the Joker trapped him in the collapsing structure that once housed his parent’s penthouse.

Now, he found himself back in Gotham after more than three years since his confrontation with his former mentor and his replacement as Robin. At the time, he had been fine leaving. He’d come and done the damage he wanted. Neither Batman nor Robin were left untouched.

Now, though, things had changed.

Hearing the clatter of steel coming from the rooftop below, he remembered one such change. He climbed down part way, and then, jumped to land a few feet away from the large, silver bird cage.

“How are you liking your bird cage, Little Robin?”

The boy in Superman pajamas looked up from his attempt to force the steel door. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. “It’s you! The… the one from Batman’s files. The one Red Robin nicknamed Red Hood.” The boy’s throat tightened as if he was trying to swallow down his fear. “Tim Drake.”

Tim softly chortled as he stepped closer. “So sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet, Richard. Or do you prefer Dick?

The young boy’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He appeared to be studying Tim. The kid had learned to observe over reacting. That put him a point smarter than Tim’s replacement. He wanted to say as much to him.

For the moment, Tim ignored it and went on. “Been a bit busy over the last three years. You know doing the dirty work Batman found too… tough to do.”

“You mean killing criminals.” Tim didn’t miss the contempt in Dick’s voice. He had heard it often enough from Bruce and the others.

The words from the boy’s mouth didn’t faze him. At least, Tim didn’t let it show. “Well, someone had to put those bad dogs down.”

“Batman doesn’t kill,” Dick declared as if it was a hard, cold fact.

“No!” corrected Tim, shaking a gloved finger at Dick. His face tightened into a forced grin. “Wrong! A long held but very inaccurate fact. The truth is Batman  _avoids_  killing.” He emphasized the second to last word.

Folding his arms behind him, he started walking around the silver bird cage. Its curved form made it quite easy. “He has been known from time to time to kill or cause the death of his adversary or their goons. What do you think happens to the thugs caught up in explosions by their bosses? Do you really think no one gets hit or dies when Two-Face wildly fires in hopes of hitting Batman?” Shaking his head, he took note that Dick was turning with him to keep him in view. “The truth is Batman does kill or allows his adversary to die, he just doesn’t like to admit it.”

“Because Batman doesn’t enjoy killing, unlike some people.”

Tim mentally congratulated Dick slightly adjusting his thinking, but frowned when he realized the boy still held on to his false hope about Batman. Of course, Tim didn’t really think the boy would so suddenly come around to his way of thinking. The kid was a bit naïve, not stupid.

Distracted in his contemplation, Tim missed when Dick suddenly reached through the bars and grabbed a hold of Tim’s leather jacket. He was pulled very close to the young but stern looking face.

“But the point is, you should know that,” Dick explained with anger in his voice. “He took you in! He trained you! He loved you!”

The last part made Tim’s stomach twist in disgust.

“For God’s sake, you used to be his Robin,” he went on. His brow softened as he gave Tim a hopeful look. “Just like me.”

Tim cut Dick off from saying anything more. With a growl, he grabbed Dick’s wrist, pulling it from his jacket. He gave it a very hard twist and squeeze, earning him a shriek of pain from the kid. Then he gave a hard shove, sending the boy tumbling back against the other side of the silver bird cage.

“I see Bruce still chooses stupid, naïve kids to be Robin,” Tim spat with a sneer. “And you’re clearly bottom of the peanut barrel. No wonder no one else wanted you! Not so amazing as your parents, I guess.”

Tim realized he had hit a nerve when a renewed anger flashed across the kid’s face. Dick looked like he wanted to scream something, perhaps curse Tim’s name. Instead, the kid just examined his wrist.

Tim took the moment of quiet to check on the rigging attached to the top of the silver bird cage. The rope was snug in place, and the pulley was strong. He was just looking up to where it was attached to the tower when he heard Dick speak again.

“If I’m so stupid, why not just tell me what you plan to do with me?” Tim turned a raised eyebrow at Dick. The kid gave a nonchalant shrug. “Not like there’s much I can do against you. I’m trapped and injured. You have all the cards. Clearly, you are better prepared than I could ever be.”

Despite himself, a part smile crept over Tim’s face. The kid sure could talk. When the threat tactic didn’t work, the kid was going the flattery route. If he was more egotistical, he might have fallen for it. Still, he might as well humor the kid.

 “Ever gone fishing, Richard?”

Pushing himself up, Dick answered. “Yes. Few times. The clowns at Haley Circus used to love to go fishing, and they let me join them from time to time.” The boy twisted his lips thoughtfully. “I wasn’t very good at it.”

Gesturing up to the rigging above the silver bird cage, Tim chuckled. “Similar idea.” He stepped away from the cage and towards the brick wall of the rooftop entrance. There was a slacked rope tied to a hook on it. Picking up the rope, he gave a sharp tug, catching briefly on a pully further up the tower.

“Fishing with a different twist, you might say,” explained Tim. He couldn’t help the strained tone to his voice. He started pulling more. Suddenly, Dick’s silver bird cage shook. The boy fell back onto the cage’s ground. Tim continued to talk as the cage started to lift off the rooftop. “If you want to catch a fish, you need good bait, something that will likely entice your target. That’s you, by the way.”

Up and up into the air, the boy in the cage rose. The shocked and worried expression of Dick’s face only grew as Jason shifted his movements. Soon, the silver bird cage was swinging in the air, causing Dick to shout in protest. “What are you doing?! Stop!”

“But of course,” interrupted Tim between grunts. “We need fast moving water as well. It’s an unfortunate necessity to catch your wiggling prey.”

Suddenly, Tim had the silver bird cage dangling over the icy water of Gotham River that ran beside the radio tower.

“You can’t be serious!” shouted Dick, struggling back to his feet.

“Oh! I’m very serious!” Tim manically laughed as he finally secured his end of the rope to a point on the radio tower.

Stepping over to Dick's side of the building, he felt the wind rush up to greet him with an icy breath. Below he saw the jagged rocks of a steep cliff edge. They were covered in fresh snow. “In fact, so is my question to you, young man.” Coughing slightly, he drew himself up to his full height. “Be my Robin… instead of the Demon Spawn’s.”

If it was possible, Dick’s eyes widened more. His jaw seemed to bob up and down.

Waving his hands, Tim already knew the argument about to come from the boy’s lips, despite the fear in his eyes. “Okay. I’ll admit it’s more of a demand than a question. But can you really blame me? I mean…”

“You want me to be your Robin? But you aren’t even Batman!”

Raising a pointer finger, Tim flashed a manic smile. “But I will be!”

Dick’s response was a confused blink.

Tim’s smile deflated as he looked back down. He muttered more to himself, “At least once I kill the Demon Spawn.” Then, he looked across at Dick again and beamed a huge smile. “And as I have said before to Bruce, a Batman needs a Robin. So why not? You’re good! I’ve seen the photos. I'm impressed! But you also have room to grow and who better than the best Robin to train you!”

That earned him a scowl for a second.

He just frowned back. 

Quickly, he held up a hand. “But of course, … I’m getting ahead of myself. I still have to kill the current Batman heir.” He chuckled loudly to himself. “Look take a few moments to enjoy that river view, smell that uniquely Gotham air, and think about what sort of future you want.” He paused, kicking a loose brick from the top of the building. It tumbled freely through the air, before striking one of the jagged rocks below. “…if you want one at all.”

 

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Jason are forced to work together to save Dick and defeat Tim. However, Tim's plan is just starting to unfold. Perhaps, assumptions need to be given up and a new tactic tried.

With more force than necessary, Jason shoved open the doors from the Batcave’s armory and locker room.

He was still fuming about all of it. Tim breaking into the Manor and kidnapping Dick. Him not being there to protect the kid. Damian yelling at him. Being told to be patient when all he felt like doing was speeding right now to the Dixon Docks. He was at wits end. He wanted to punch something. He wanted it to be Tim. Still, he reminded himself about what Bruce taught him.

“Don’t be so quick to lose…,” he started to say as he slowed his step. He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Batcomputer level. “… my temper. Think, don’t just act. Just need to count.” Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing. “One… Two…” With each number, he drew in a deep breath and then slowly released it. “Three… Four… Five… Six…” He kept doing it, until he felt less on edge.

Jason knew Bruce would be proud. And that brought a small smile to his face.

Opening his eyes again, he looked up towards the Batcomputer level and called out in a calm voice, “So what’s the plan, Nightwing?”

No response came.

A niggling sensation of irritation formed behind Jason’s right eye. His teeth clenched briefly, before he started counting again. “Seven… Eight…”

Only ten minutes ago, he had left Damian standing at the Batcomputer with Alfred. Ten minutes was more than enough time to come up with some strategy. At least, it would have been for Bruce. Jason wasn’t so sure about Damian. From the few team ups between the Teen Titans and Young Justice, Damian seemed to work more on the fly. Jason still didn’t know how he managed to lead his rag-tag group of friends into a fight like that.

Once Jason felt calmer again, he strode up the steps and called out, in a more sarcastic tone, “Oh, come on, oh heir of Batman! You’ve got to have some sort of…”

This time a response came in a high-pitched growl. “Shut up, Todd! I’m thinking!”

Under his breath, Jason muttered, “Don’t hurt yourself doing that.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, Jason’s gaze narrowed upon the red and black armored form of Nightwing. He wasn’t staring at the screen. Rather, he seemed captivated by something lying on the console beside his domino mask. From this distance, it looked like sheets of paper. Damian’s lips were moving as if he was reading something.

A new voice pulled Jason’s attention away from Damian. “The Batcomputer’s satellites have finished their scans of the area.” From a lower area of platforms, Alfred stepped up to their level, holding a tablet. “So far there are only a few heat signatures being picked up. Two are coming from the substation, and the rest appear to be at the nuclear power plant on the south side of the Docks.” He touched the tablet screen as if bringing up more information. His gaze slowly rose in Damian’s direction. “I doubt they have anything to do with Master T… Red Hood. Perhaps he honestly does just want a confrontation with you, Master Damian.”

A dismissive “Tt” fell from Damian’s lips. He spared a glance over his shoulder at Alfred. “Drake has never been straight forward on anything. He’s up to something. He’s always up to something. I just need to figure out what.”

Ignoring Damian, Jason stepped over to Alfred. “You said two heat signatures. Could the other one be Dick?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow as he looked once more at the tablet. “Difficult to say. The second one is smaller than the first, but it is hard to determine anything else. But, I suppose, it is likely.” The older man gave Jason a warm smile.

“No, there is no way to tell!” Damian countered, much to Jason’s frustration. Both Alfred and he looked up to the towering Nightwing. He put on his domino mask now. “For all we know, Drake has Grayson stashed someplace else. That heat signature could be someone else… maybe his accomplice. Could even be a weapon he plans to use against us?” He paused, before a grim look darkened Nightwing’s face. “It’s even possible Grayson is already dead.”

Jason snapped. All the self-control of a few minutes earlier fizzled away. “You son of a…” He swung at Damian, hoping to hit him in the jaw. Despite facing mostly away, Damian seemed to know what Jason was doing. He dodged with ease, before grabbing Jason’s hand and flipping him over onto his back. There was a loud bang as Jason landed on the stone floor.

“Master Jason!” shouted Alfred in a worried tone. He knelt beside him. Then, he turned his stern expression up at Nightwing. “Master Damian, really! Was that…?”

Damian shot Alfred a warning glare. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it like Father did, Pennyworth.” He then turned to look down at Jason who touched the back of his head. “Sorry to break it to you, Todd. I really am.” His voice trailed off for a second. Then, his jaw tightened. “Drake isn’t the average Gotham psycho looking to play games with us. He doesn’t care about us or the fact that Grayson is a kid. He’s killed before and he’ll likely kill again, unless we… I…” Damian hesitated to finish his sentence.

 “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” asked Jason, giving Damian a scrutinizing glance.

Damian’s eyes were wide as his gaze snapped back towards Jason.

Jason knew enough from Alfred and Bruce what had driven the original wedge between Bruce and Damian. It was why Bruce fired him as Robin. They didn’t talk for more than a year afterwards. Then, Tim intervened bringing Damian back to Gotham and saving Bruce’s life. Damian never said it, but Jason got the feeling he had a soft spot for Tim before his death. He even helped to train the younger man. In fact, Jason had always wondered if Damian shared in Bruce’s guilt over the second Robin’s death. Of course, you’d never know by the way Damian talked about Tim. It sounded more like they were mortal enemies. Still, Jason didn’t know for sure whether Damian would kill again, and if he could bring himself to kill Tim.

Turning sharply away, Damian went back to face the Batcomputer. His hand moved over the console to a plain envelope. “I don’t know yet, but trust me, Todd. I won’t let anything happen to anyone else.” He turned his head slightly towards Jason. “And if Grayson is still alive, I’ll make sure he stays that way. No matter what.”

Despite his doubt on Damian’s willingness to kill, Jason believed him on his vow. It was something in his tone and the way he said it.

“For now, I need Robin at my side.” He turned to face Jason with a raised eyebrow. “Can you do that?”

Jason’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to yell a firm ‘No’. Another, which sounded an awful lot like Bruce, told him to do his duty. Thus, Jason rose to his feet and put on his domino mask. “I’m with you, Nightwing.”

The briefest of smiles graced Nightwing’s face. “Good. Let’s head out then.”

oOo

Tim was perched high up on the radio tower. Only the flashing red of the tower light lit the rooftop. He shot out the other lights on the KGTH substation rooftop to cloak most of it in shadows. He wanted to keep Dick hidden from view and give himself vantage points to hide in during the coming fight. Shadows would be his strongest ally.

When he heard the roar of the Batmobile, he peered out over the main road leading on to Dixon Docks. Like its namesake, the Batmobile cut through the air and flew up to the front of the building. There it came to a sudden stop.

A large smirk spread over Tim’s face. Craning his neck, he excitedly watched for the door to slide open and out jump his prey. He licked his lips in anticipation, waiting to see the black cape of Batman whip out. He could already imagine the scowl on the new Batman’s face. He would savor that look before he wiped it off forever.

Suddenly, the door slid open. It was not Batman that leapt out but Nightwing.

For the first time, Tim felt shocked. He stared blankly at the figure in red and black. The man, despite longer hair, looked exactly as he remembered him from so many years ago. Blinking, he tried to wrap his head around the sight of the figure who now touched his earpiece. He hadn’t expected him to still be wearing that tightly formed Nightwing suit. His throat tightened as he watched the man look about. The street lights lit all the suits curves and edges just the right way. Even with the extra body armor on top, it was a sight to see.

Shaking his head, Tim tried to clear his thoughts. “Doesn’t change anything,” he told himself, despite an uncomfortable feeling filling his stomach. “Batman or not, I won’t waste this chance.”

With great care, he shifted his position on the tower to watch Nightwing’s approach. He was still talking to someone. Tim couldn’t hear what was being said. Still, he could guess that Damian was talking to the Replacement. They were probably discussing how to sneak up on Tim.

On that thought, Tim’s smirk returned. Of course, they didn’t know what Tim had up his sleeve. “Won’t they be surprised.”

Leaping back to the rooftop, he stepped over to the edge that would be above Nightwing. Pulling his gun from his belt, he took aim and fired down on the man below.

oOo

A single shot sliced passed Damian’s head, barely missing him. He dodged under the doorway covering. He glanced about, readying a batarang. His gaze darted left and right. He didn’t have a clue where the shot originated.

That’s when he heard a manic laugh from high above him. “Didn’t see me coming, did you, Demon Spawn?”

“I see you’re a coward, Drake,” Damian yelled, trying to see pass the overhang. The words felt horrid on his tongue, but he refused to let his feelings show. “Can’t face me with any sort of honor?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t waste poor Dick’s time by wondering the whole building looking for us. Come meet us on the rooftop!”

For a second, Damian’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t suspected that Tim would keep Grayson nearby. He hadn’t been lying about that to Todd or his fear that Tim killed the boy. Even more, he hadn’t expected Tim to just tell him. Damian started to wonder what other assumptions about Tim had been wrong.

Damian decided to test another. Pulling out his grappling gun, he stepped out from his covering. Tim made no further pot shots at him. That was another assumption proven wrong.

Whispering softly to himself, he said, “Maybe Father is right. Maybe I might be able to get Tim to listen to me.”

Raising his hand, he shot off the grappling hook and ascended the building.

When his boots hit the rooftop, he pulled his escrima sticks out. Across the large rooftop, he saw the towering radio tower; the raised rooftop entrance, which had its door firmly closed; and nothing else. However, he did notice a rope attached to the radio tower that stretched upward and across, and then outward away from the building.  Squinting, he almost thought he saw something in the darkness beyond. He started towards it when a figure suddenly leapt down in front of him.

Tim slowly rose to a full standing position. A manic grin covered his face. “Looking for me, Nightwing?”

Damian just glared back at him. “Alright. I’m here. There’s no need to keep Robin locked away.”

“True, but he’s my guarantee you don’t go running off.”

“You know an al Guhl doesn’t run from a fight, Drake,” Damian said in a firm tone.

Tim just smirked, giving a nonchalant shrug.  He side-eyed to his left. “Do you speak for little Red Robin?” Then he pointed a gun behind him. “Don’t think about it, Replacement.”

Looking just over Tim’s shoulder, Nightwing spotted Red Robin with his own Batarang at the ready. “Lower it, Robin.”

“Listen to him, Replacement,” Tim concurred.

Red Robin frowned at them. “Only after he tells me where Dick is.”

“Oh, he’s close at hand,” he told them, and then gestured back into the darkness, where the line stretched out of the line of sight. “But I wouldn’t even think about trying anything. I wasn’t being cutesy with my words.” Pulling back his sleeve, he displayed for Nightwing a wide, metallic wristband.

“What’s he talking about, Nightwing?” asked Red Robin, still holding the Batarang at the ready.

“He’s got some sort of wristband control,” Damian explained. He lowered his own weapons. “No doubt with a fail-safe attached to Robin’s cage.”

“You take one step towards Robin’s bird cage or try to remove this wristband from my arm… and that line instantly cuts, dropping little Robin into the icy and very rocky Gotham River below.

“You bastard!” growled Red Robin. He took a threatening step towards Tim.

“Robin, stop!” Red Robin’s narrowed gaze met Damian’s. He could tell the teen was on the verge of losing his self-control. He shook his head, before giving the teen a stern look. “Put down your weapon. For Grayson.”

After a second more, Red Robin lowered his batarang, but said nothing.

“Good,” Tim said sarcastically, lowering his gun and turning back completely towards Damian. “Looks like you have better control over the boy than Bruce ever did.”

That earned him another growl from Red Robin.

Tim just laughed loudly. “Oh, don’t feel bad, Replacement. While I take care of Big Brother, I’ve got something to keep you busy.” He reached for the wrist band and pressed a button.

“No!” yelled both Red Robin and Damian.

“Don’t worry, won’t damage little Robin… just yet.” With a devious grin on his face, Tim winked at Damian.

Damian felt his stomach muscles tighten. He suddenly felt sick. Tim’s subtle slight wasn’t missed by Damian. There were words on his tongue, but he stopped short of saying anything.

Then, Tim turned to glance at the teen. “How’s your history lessons going, Red Robin? Have you heard about Ten Mile Island yet?”

Damian’s eyes widen as realization of what Tim was suggesting struck him. He narrowed his gaze on the younger man. There was a growl on his lips even before Alfred came over the commlink. “Sirs! There’s been a massive explosion at the Nuclear Power Plant on the south end of Dixon Docks.”

“You son of a bitch!” shouted Red Robin. He stepped closer to Tim. In less than a blink of an eye, Tim raised his gun and fired at Red Robin. The bullets struck the cement rooftop, stopping the teen in his tracks.

“You better hurry, Replacement. Or you’re going to see firsthand just how much of Gotham starts to glow green.”

Red Robin looked ready to attack again.

Nightwing shouted, “Go, Robin. Now!”

After only a second more of hesitation, Red Robin shot off his grappling and was gone.

There was still a smirk on Tim’s pale face when he turned back to face Damian. His gun was lowered, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. “Now, just you and me, Demon Spawn.”

 

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian must face Tim in combat, but he's reluctant to actually fight him. Despite his words to Jason, he doesn't want to kill the former Robin.

  _‘Protect Tim…’_

These had been the words his father had said the most often to him. The first time he said it was right after Damian and Tim rescued him from certain death. His father again told him during his first sparring match with the brand-new Robin. He continued to tell him it every time he went on patrol with the younger man. Only after the second Robin died did his father never say those words again to him.

Damian blinked, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes. He drew in a shaky breath. The coldness of the present night quickly drew him back from his memories.

Standing much closer to the radio tower, Tim wore a smug look on his face. “Are you ready, Demon Spawn?”

His father’s voice echoed in Damian’s head. _‘Protect Tim…’_

“Drake,” Damian said firmly. “We… we don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

A brief, confused look crossed Tim’s face. Staring at that familiar, if now scarred face, Damian heard his father’s words again. _‘Protect Tim…’_

This time, the words were not simply memories. No. They were the words written as his father’s very last request in the note from the white envelope. ‘Protect Tim from his enemies that he has surely made…from himself… from my mistake. You are the only one who might be able to reach him.’

In the moments of silence, Damian barely registered that Tim was retrieving something from an elongated, black bag. Damian swore he hadn’t even noticed it earlier.

“Oh, I get it! You want this to be like old times. Don’t worry! I’m prepared for that.” From the black bag, Tim pulled out two brass handled sabers. He threw one towards Damian. It landed at his feet. “Death by sword probably is more intone with an al Guhl, anyway.” Immediately, he fell into a fighting stance. The sword was held to one side with both hands on the handle. “So once again, are you ready, Demon Spawn?”

Damian’s eyes narrowed on the blade lying on the ground.

There was a world of conflict raging in his mind. He was an al Guhl. He was raised to always accept a challenge by sword. It was inexcusable to not. As his mother always told him, it was better to die facing a sword than to be stabbed in the back. But, Damian did not want to fight Tim, and it wasn’t just because of his father’s words. The younger man before him held too many emotional connections. Still, if he did not fight, Tim might kill Grayson in retribution. He had promised Todd to protect Grayson. His father had also asked him to protect the boy. Thus, Damian’s hands were figuratively tied.

“Drake…” Damian tried again to reason with the younger man. He hoped his father was right that he might be able to reach him. “Whatever you think I’ve done…”

An irate scoff fell from Tim’s lips. He lowered his weapon slightly. A look of disgust washed over his face. “Really! You’re going that route? Don’t tell me you’ve grown soft after all these years.”

Damian said nothing in retort.

Tim shook his head slowly. “And here I thought you were better than Batman. You’re just a poor man’s facsimile.”

Something dark twisted in Damian’s stomach. His lips tightened, and his nose wrinkled as he turned his head to the side. A thousand horrid thoughts flashed through his mind. Images of all the horrible things he’d do to someone who insulted him like that. Yet, he said nothing.

Damian already knew Tim was goading him. The younger man knew which buttons to press to set him off. Given enough prodding, Tim probably hoped Damian would get angry and do something truly foolish. Despite his earlier conflict, Damian knew he had little choice. If he delayed further, Damian might not be able to come back from a particularly bad insult by Tim.

“Very well,” Damian said reluctantly. He picked up the saber and stood ready.

“Good.” Tim fell into position, before making the first move.

Damian notice how fast Tim moved. He might be faster than Damian remembered. With two strides, he was close enough to make two slashes at Damian’s right side. The blade struck the armor, taking most of the blow. His suit held up, but it was enough to cause Damian to lose his balance. He felt his body swing left.

Yet, Damian was quick to catch his footing and adjust. He shifted his weight to compensate. Quickly, he moved out of the next slash of Tim’s saber with a roll. He needed to give himself more space to counterattack. When Damian was on his feet again, he moved to center himself for Tim’s next assault.

As the younger man leapt at him, Damian struck out at Tim. His blade slid cleanly through Tim’s leather jacket. Unlike the younger man, Damian avoided connecting with the body. Rather, he snagged the brown leather jacket. Caught together, Damian could deliver a few hard punches to the younger man’s face and torso. After a third one aimed at his stomach, Tim tripped and fell backwards.

He openly mocked the younger man. “And you always said capes and jackets were a good thing, Drake.” A smirk curved his lips.

There was no true amusement for Damian. Rather, he hoped the return banter would trigger some memory for Tim about their shared past. He vainly hoped it might be a way to draw Tim out of these dark ends for him and Grayson.

For a brief flicker of a moment, Damian swore he saw recognition. It was as if Tim too recalled the many arguments about superhero costumes. Damian held his breath. All he waited for was a confirming smile or a word.

There was only an angry look in return. “Fuck you, Demon Spawn!” In a fluid move, Tim twisted and spun, shifting the jacket off his arms and rolling away from Damian.

Damian mentally scolded himself for pausing in his attack. If he’d focused on physically immobilizing Tim instead of worrying about talking him down, the fight might already be over. Instead, Tim was back on his feet and Damian’s sword was entangled in the leather material. He had left himself vulnerable.

Moving as fast as his towering form allowed, Damian tried to dodge the next onslaught of attacks. Once again, Tim came quick. He used one hand to slash. Then threw a hard, opposing punch towards Damian’s face.

Damian took the blow of the fist, but managed to avoid the saber. His face snapped to the side. At the same time, he ripped through the leather jacket, freeing his sword. Next, he readjusted his footing to find the best way for a counteroffensive. However, much to his surprise he found he was alone in the red glow.

The manic laughter of Tim echoed around him. “Still as slow as quicksand.”

Right and left frantically Damian’s gaze flashed. He wanted to be ready no matter from which shadow Tim emerged. His teeth were clenched. “Still as cowardly as The Riddler, I see.”

“No, just bringing in some familiar friends, Demon Spawn,” Tim spat. A splash of something fell upon Damian. He managed to avoid it falling into his eyes, but the stench was powerful to his nose. “Say hello to your fellow night wings!”

“What?” Damian barely got the word out before he heard the sharp shriek of a swarm of flying creatures. His eyes widened to take in the sight of owls, ravens, and many other varieties of night flyers. They descended upon him. He cried out as talons dug into him. Those aimed at his body caused only minimal discomfort and damage to his Nightwing suit. A few managed to claw at his face. One even managed to yank off his domino mask.

Thinking quick, he reached for his utility belt and pulled out two things. First, he set off a flash grenade. That seemed to briefly disperse the swarm. Some of them even got scared away. Those that remained got a beak full of a special repellent his father had created to use against Penguin’s attack birds.

Drawing in a brief shaky breath, he tried to calm himself.

The loud sound of slow clapping quickly reminded him that the fight was not over. “I’m impressed! You do think quick on your feet still. Now, let’s see how fast you move.”

That’s when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired.

From a kneeling position, he spun and then cartwheeled out of the way. As more shots struck the cement ground, he flipped again and again. He kept moving until he heard heavy boots on the ground. Then, he stopped, raised his saber, and turned quickly to face his opponent.

There was a bemused look on Tim’s face. His gun was again holstered, and the saber was in his hands. “You have become a world of surprises, Demon Spawn.”

Damian wanted to say something, but he feared he might be wasting another chance. Instead, he rushed forward with his sword at the ready. Tim met him half way across the rooftop. Their blades sparked upon colliding.

Again, and again, their sabers clashed. Tim would throw Damian back, but Damian returned with a punch towards the younger man chin. In return he got the hilt of Tim’s sword across his face. Still, Damian was watching Tim carefully. He was looking for any sign of weakening.

All he got was a growl followed by a scoff. Again, their sabers met with a flash of sparks. “See there! You are different! Where’s that old fire of rage? Old you would never let me get this close. Old you would have had me pinned to the mat begging to be let up. Hands on my throat. Knife against my neck. Ha ah! Old times!”

Those words broke Damian’s focus. He gave one hard shove, pushing Tim back. Then, he fell back slightly in step. “Is that how you remember it? Me trying to hurt you?”

A sharp and loud chortle reverberated from Tim. “Of course! You needed to knock me down a peg or two. That’s how it was supposed to be! You were Batman’s test to see if I was good enough! If I failed….” His smile dipped and there was a quiver to his lips. “I failed…”

A lump formed in Damian’s throat. “Father was right…”

That caught Tim’s attention. He gave a wide-eyed look at Damian.

Without his domino mask, Damian couldn’t hide. Tears filled his eyes to the brim. “Tim… I… I’m sorry. But that’s not how it was. That’s never how I felt. I… We wanted you safe! Protected!”

Tim’s eyes flashed with unfathomable rage. “Don’t you dare! Safe would have been sending a nosy kid straight back home to his parents, not training him for Batman’s war!”

“We tried!” Damian shouted. He swung his free hand wide as if gesturing towards something. “Father ordered you! I told you about the horrible things I’d been through with the League of Assassins and as Robin. But you wouldn’t listen! You foolishly idolized… me! Why… did you?”

Tim shook his head vigorously as if he didn’t want to believe what Damian was saying.

Taking a cautious step towards Tim, Damian went on. “What could we do? Like Father said, left to your own devices you’d get yourself killed following in our footsteps. You needed guidance, training. That’s what we were doing. Don’t you remember that?”

“No, no, no, no,” loudly muttered Tim, squeezing his eyes shut. His lips were pursed, and he was still shaking his head. One hand went to the back of his head as if cupping a wound. Then, he shouted, “That’s not right. No! You’re lying! I remember everything! What you did! What you put me through?! You and your damn family!”

Without focus, Tim swung at Damian. With much more ease, Damian parried each swing. Hit after hit, their sabers continued to clash, sending sparks into the air. At times, Damian swore they were brighter than the flashing red light.

Then, Damian made a bad step. His leg twisted the wrong way and he swung left when he meant to come from the right. His blade struck Tim’s side. It dug deep into the flesh, drawing a howl of pain.

Damian’s heart stopped for a second. “Tim…. I’m… I didn’t…”

Renewed rage flashed in Tim’s eyes as he dropped to his knees. “Liar!” On his knee, he spun, taking out Damian’s legs beneath him.

Breath flew out of Damian’s lungs as he struck the hard ground with a bang. His mind was spinning. His thoughts, despite his situation, were only about Tim’s wellbeing.

Everything was happening too fast.

Damian still didn’t understand why Tim thought those horrible things. Never once in the years they trained and fought together had he even seen an inkling of that. Tim had never shied away from practice. Never avoided Damian. Often the boy had initiated the sparring matches or team ups. Damian couldn’t count the number of hours they had spent just talking and laughing. He couldn’t remember the number of nights Tim had snuck off to New York to visit Damian. Damian’s couch had practically become Tim’s second home. Nothing in the years fighting together said Tim hated him so much or felt so abused.

Something was horribly wrong, and Damian no longer knew what to think.

Looking up at the triumphant, blood stained smirk, Damian dropped his sword. Tim only needed a single forward lunge to kill him. Damian accepted what was bound to come.

A cold laugh fell from Tim’s lips. A wave of sweat dripped down the younger man’s brow. It mixed with the blood coming from his nose and mouth. “You have become pathetic! You dishonor both sides of your family!” He heaved a heavy breath. “And you’ll die for that!”

Despite Tim’s venomous words, Damian couldn’t help but notice the younger man did not strike him down. There was a tremble to Tim’s saber arm. Damian thought maybe it was due to the pain of his wound, but Damian saw a fear in Tim’s eyes.

Slowly, rising to his elbows, Damian watched Tim’s eyes flicker closed and open. A hopeful thought entered Damian’s mind. Maybe Tim was starting to doubt his false memories. If there was even a chance left, Damian knew he couldn’t just give up now.

“Tim… listen to me please,” Damian said. “I…”

“No!” more screamed than shouted Tim. He aimed the saber at Damian’s face. Labored breaths fell from the younger man’s lips. “I’m the one in control here! And that… that means I make the demands!”

“Okay.” Damian nodded slowly. He raised a hand, palm facing towards Tim. “Okay. You’re in charge. Go ahead, you have me at your mercy.”

Slowly, Tim nodded in agreement. His eyes looked unfocused as he swallowed. “Yes. Yes. Before you die, I want… I demand to know…” His voice trailed off as if his mind was no more focused than his vision. The saber lowered again.

Damian shook slightly at the prospect of what Tim wanted to know. He feared it was about the night he died. Despite it being some eight years ago, Damian still couldn’t face one of his greatest losses and failures. He just wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about it.

A part smile curved Tim’s bloodied lips. “How? How did you do that? The flips and shit?” He shook his head slowly. “Bruce wasn’t the type for acrobatics, and I don’t remember… remember you…”

“From me!” The high-pitched voice was defiant. “He learned it from me!”

Tim spun on the spot and Damian’s gaze snapped to a point on the top raised portion of the rooftop entrance. There in ripped Superman pajamas stood a disheveled Grayson.

Damian lent forward in surprise. The small boy stood tall and imposing. For the most part, he looked unscathed. There were questions floating on Damian’s tongue. He never had a chance to say any of them.

Tim squawked, “How’d you escape my…?”

From behind his back, Grayson lifted a curved knife.

Damian sat forward. “Where’d you get…?” His question died on his tongue as he saw Tim drop his saber.

Watching him intently, Damian saw Tim patting down his pants pockets. “My knife! How’d you…?”

“You really shouldn’t have let me get a hold of your jacket, Red Hood.” There was a smug grin on the boy’s dirt cover face. “Or didn’t Batman teach you the sleight of hand trick?”

Pulling his gun from his holster, Tim spat out a curse word. “You little…”

The second after Damian saw Tim point the weapon at Dick, he was on his feet. “No!”

Much to Damian’s surprise, Grayson was quicker than either of them. Before he could fire, Dick threw the knife. Slicing through the night air, it struck perfectly into Tim’s shoulder.

Tim fired wide, completely missing Grayson.

In the next second, Damian was on top of Tim. Gripping tightly to his firing arm, he twisted it. The gun dropped to the ground.

The boy cartwheeled off the raised surface. He landed smoothly on to the cement ground. Despite having bare feet, he didn’t comment about the landing. Rather, he hurried over to Damian who was struggling to restrain Tim. There was still a defiant look on the boy’s face, but it was directed at Tim.

“And to answer your earlier demand,” said Grayson with a glare. He pointed a finger in Tim’s blood-stained face. “I’ll never be your fucking Robin!”

That earned him a silencing glare from Damian.  “That’s enough, Grayson!”

With cuffs in place, Damian forced Tim on to his knees. Still, Tim glowered at Dick. He muttered curses at the boy.

With a glare to match, the boy drew in several deep breaths. His eyes were dilated. His teeth and hands were clenched tightly. His entire body appeared to be trembling with energy. Damian could tell the kid was on an adrenaline high. There was no telling what he might do, and right now, Damian didn’t need any more unpredictable factors.

He removed his grappling gun and tossed it up to Grayson. “I’ll take it from here. Go help Red Robin at the Power Plant! Now!”

Faster than Damian had ever seen, the look of anger turned to a look of excitement. “Yes, sir!” In a sprint that would have even surprised Kid Flash, Grayson ran, propelled himself off the rooftop, and perfectly shot a line over to the next building over.

Damian couldn’t help the tiny smile that curved his lips. He had underestimated the kid. Perhaps, they all had.

The strained voice of Tim drew Damian back to the situation. “This isn’t over, Demon Spawn!”

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason being a hero, but even heroes need rescuing.

Jason’s shoulder sunk as he stared at the burning sight before him.

A towering wall of fire stretched out in front of him.  There was no way he’d be able to jump it. In fact, the intensity of the heat was more than enough incentive for him to stay back. But then, he wouldn’t be able to reach the main emergency exit. Maybe if it was just him, he might be able to find a different way around it. However, he had about a dozen of the Nuclear Power Plant’s workers with him. Some of them were injured and barely able to stand.

“Okay.” His voice was tight as he pressed his lips together. His mind spun, trying to figure out a new exit strategy.

From behind him, Jason heard a deep but panicked voice. “What now, Kid?!” Jason mentally cursed as he tried to ignore the man. “You led us here! You said we'd be out! In no time!”

“Calm down, Frank!” The gruff voice of another man tried to reassure the panicked man. “The kid… I mean, Robin’s doing his best.”

“Mikey,  _his_  best ain’t gotten us out! We’re trapped!”

“And what would you have had us do, Frank? Stay in the command center?” angrily spat yet another voice. This one sounded younger. From what Jason had overheard earlier, this man was a college intern at the Power Plant. “That roof was on the verge of collapse.”

As if to confirm the man’s words, Jason heard an inhuman whine cut through the air. The shrill sound became a thunderous crash. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw the group turn back towards the building behind them. The look of fear was more than evident on their faces.

Jason swallowed a lump in his throat. He had to figure out another way out and fast. That’s when he recalled a reference to Gotham City’s Nuclear Power Plant in one of his old science textbooks. Turning sharply to face the group, he addressed them. “Okay. The east side of the Complex… does it still house that old museum on nuclear power?”

Each worker looked at one another. For a beat of a moment, Jason feared that none of them knew anything about the Complex outside of the main plant. Fixing each with a narrowed gaze, he willed one of them to remember. He needed to know for sure before taking a risk again. He didn’t want to lead them down another dead end.

Finally, a gray-haired man, who was leaning against another worker, spoke up. “Yes, I think you’re right, Robin. But we haven’t used that in ages. Not since…”

“Good enough!” Jason cut the man off, before leading the way. “Let’s head that way!” They went back underneath the main walkway and into a lengthy corridor. He was recalling the rough schematics of the entire Complex. When Alfred had uploaded it to him, Jason had noticed they were more than two decades old. He feared that could cause trouble. Still, he tried to stay confident.

As he took a turn down another hallway, his confidence wavered. He was forced to skid to a halt. The new hallway had already collapsed.

“Not good,” he breathed, before touching the side of his domino mask. He brought the schematics up again. He examined the layout of hallways, trying to find an alternative route to the museum.

“Shit!” exclaimed Frank, coming up behind him with the others. “Another dead…”

Jason raised a finger, silencing the man before he could panic again. He gave him a stern look. Then, he pointed down a different hallway. “This way.” Not waiting for a response, he continued forward.

Frank grumbled behind him. A few particularly vulgar curse words were not missed by Jason. Some were directed at him.

Jason held his tongue. That was not easy. He just tried to remember what Bruce had taught him.

During a rescue situation, Bruce said he needed to stay level headed. People were bound to panic and act out. They might see him as a savior or another obstacle between them and freedom. Either way, he had to remain in control of himself as well as the people being rescued. As long as he could continue to remain a point of authority, he should be fine, even if he was younger than everyone else.

Jason led the team right and left again. There were more collapsed hallways. Twice more, Jason did have to redirect the group. After another two left turns, he approached a pair of chained doors. Over the top of them, he saw a sign: The Museum.

A small smile played at Jason’s lips.

Pulling a batarang from his utility belt, Jason aimed and threw it at the chain securing the doors shut. Cleanly, its razor-sharp edge sliced through the chain. As he waited for the group to catch up, he pulled the broken chain aside and pushed open the doors.

A deep musty stench filled his nostrils. Jason couldn’t help how his nose wrinkled in repulsion. He wanted to sneeze, but resisted the urge. Instead, he focused on getting his eyes to focus in the darkness.

Even in the gloom of the room, the place was an amazing sight of distinctive shapes and vibrant colors. Adjusting his domino mask to night vision, the room slowly became clearer. Now, he could see all sorts of displays, models, and more about the history of nuclear energy. Despite their eye-catching appearance, Jason wasn’t interested in them.

“Wow! I can’t believe I didn’t know this was here. It’s so retro looking,” commented the young intern.

“How can you tell, Joey? It’s so dark,” asked Mike.

As the group talked, Jason hurried forward towards his goal. It lay across the room, mostly hidden from view behind a replica of a cooling tower.

Across a large section of wall spanned a floor to ceiling window pane. Outside, there was an expansive view of Gotham River and a narrow walkway that wrapped around to the other side of the building. Etched on the glass were several different types of nuclear power plant workers. Each wore a huge smile and were giving thumbs up. It was just like from his physics book. That’s why he remembered it.

“This way!” called Jason. He was half-way across the room when suddenly he heard a sharp whining sound.

“Robin, look out!” yelled out one of the workers.

Jason came to a sudden stop just in time. The ceiling before him came crashing down. “Shit!” The word was out of his mouth just before he leapt backwards. A powerful wind rushed up to greet him. He was thrown even further back. The pungent smell of dust and mold filled his nose.

On the floor, Jason coughed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Joey, the young intern, looking down at him. “You okay, Robin?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Jason nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.” He tried to shake off the brief feeling of panic that gripped him. That had been too close for comfort.

Despite that, he needed to stay focused.  Jason looked back towards the window. Many wood planks and metal girders now blocked the way. Still, he could smile about one thing. The debris had smashed through the glass.

“We have to move the debris,” Jason said loudly. He hadn’t really expected any of them to help him. After all, most of them were injured. Some others were too scared to do much else than follow him. Most of them had been more of a hindrance than a help.

As he hurried forward, he slipped under one plank of wood and started to move it from its angled resting place. Unfortunately, it was heavy, even heavier than the weights Jason lifted back in the Batcave. Still, he would not give up.

Suddenly, he saw another pair of hands gripping the wood plank, too. “Here let me help you, Robin.” Glancing to his left, he saw Joey helping to move the plank of wood.

“Thank you,” Jason said between grunts. The wood finally fell to one side with a bang.

As Jason moved to the next plank, he saw Joey look to the rest of the group. “Don’t just stand there, guys! If we want to get out of here, we’ll have to work together!”

Many of the men looked confused and unsure. They stared at each other. Some even whispered about their injuries. Others said they weren’t physically able.

That’s when Jason noticed Frank, the man who had panicked earlier. He trembled slightly, before shutting his eyes. He slowly shook his head. Since they had gotten out of the main command center, he had been constantly complaining. Jason still wanted to punch the man, but kept Bruce's advice in mind. When he heard Frank speak, Jason expected the worst.

“I'm terrified! But Joey's right,” Frank said simply at first. That got Jason’s full attention. “Hard to say this, but... Robin's plan is our best way out. We gotta work together! Otherwise, Gustavo sacrificed for nothin’.”

Closing his own eyes for a second, Jason said a prayer for the man who gave his life for his team. It hurt more knowing the man was a father to one of Jason’s classmates. Nobody that Jason knew personally. Still he had heard of the girl who volunteered part time at Gotham General Hospital and was the best high school saxophone player in the region. Last week, she had been accepted to Juilliard. He wondered if she’d still go now, if she’d even be able to afford it now.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he shook his head. He could worry about that later. Right now, he had to try to stay focused. Of course, that was easier said than done. He was only partially here. His mind was still back at the substation with Dick and Damian. He hoped Damian would keep his word and Dick wouldn’t do anything foolish.

Jason’s eyes opened when he heard all the workers say as one, “For Gustavo!”

Jason’s gaze snapped to the group. Every one of them, even the ones limping or with broken arms, moved towards the debris. Together, they made quick work on the mess of word and steel. With an all-mighty ‘oomph’, Jason and a tall woman removed the last of the debris blocking the way out.

“Okay! Everyone out! It’s just down that path and around the building!” he told the group.

“Follow me!” called Mike, leading the way. Some of them moved faster than others, but soon all of them were outside. As long as they followed the path, Jason knew they should quickly make it to the waiting police and firefighters.

Surprisingly, Jason felt a hand on his shoulders. Turning sharply, he saw Frank standing beside him. There was no smile on his dirt covered face. Only a look that said more about being amazed. Jason wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or the fact his plan worked. "You did good, Kid." 

A proud feeling filled him. He had to fight the urge to smile at the man. Jason decided to just nod. "You're welcome."

Frank drew in another long breath, before nodding back. He started forward, but stopped to look back. “You comin’?”

“Not yet,” Jason told him. “I have to make one more sweep to make sure there’s no one else.”

Frank’s brow furrowed. Jason knew that look. He’d seen it enough times on Alfred’s face. “Be careful. No telling if Gustavo was successful or not.”

“You let the Commissioner know that I’ll check on that, too. You just get yourself and the others to safety,” Jason told him. One last time, they exchanged nods. Then, Jason turned and headed back the way they came. Soon, he returned to the open-air area of the Complex.

Raising his grappling gun, he fired a line towards one of the high-rise walkways. He could get a better view from above. When he finally landed on the raised walkway, he glanced over the metal railing. His gaze shifted left and right. He moved along the walkway, looking over both sides. So far, there was no sign of anybody trapped or otherwise.

Jason strained his ears, trying to hear even the tiniest of cries for help. At first, he heard nothing than the crackling from the fire and the creak from wood falling in. Then, there was a loud bang from the direction of the open-air area that he had just left. Dashing along the walkway, he looked down towards it.

The main emergency exit had exploded inward. A giant wave of water washed over the wall of fire, extinguishing it. Soon, a small group of firefighters cleared the way with a battering ram and firehoses. He could hear the shouts, signaling where to spray the water. Quickly, the blaze was dying down. The main emergency exit was now usable for anyone else needing escape.

Leaving the firefighters to clear up the lower area, Jason raised his grappling gun again. He shot across to a high-rise lifting crane a few yards away. This would place him well above most of the smoke. Smoothly, he landed on top of the lifting crane’s compartment.

Then, he dashed to the front and crouched down to see the area with the primary cooling silo. There was still a bit of smoke bellowing out of it. Touching his domino mask, he shifted his vision to heat. Watching closely, he saw the silo was no longer emanating as much heat as when he first got here. In fact, the sensors in his mask showed that the silo was definitely in cool down mode.

Clearly, Gustavo had been successful in getting the core into cool down mode in time. He had saved Gotham from becoming a nuclear fallout site. He hadn’t died for nothing. His team would be glad to hear that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw a flash of something flying past. He turned sharply. He saw nothing. Looking down, he hoped to spot whatever it was or wherever it went. He saw neither.

Instead, he heard someone shout out. “Look out! Jump, Robin!”

“What?!” Jason’s hand instinctively went to his utility belt. Before he could grab his grappling gun, there was an abrupt jolt to the ground beneath his feet. He toppled over and found himself sliding down the front of the crane. Twisting around, he tried to get a hold of the metal surface.

Panic gripped him, even as he caught the edge of one of the crane compartment windows. As his world started to tilt downward, he spotted the problem. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he had landed. The fire had weakened the support frame of the crane. His added weight was too much for it to take and it was collapsing.

Jason knew he needed to grapple someplace else. Reaching once more to his utility belt, he found no grappling gun there. His eyes widened as he spotted the grappling gun sliding off of the nose of the crane.

“Fuck me!” he openly cursed. Without further thought, he propelled himself in the direction of the grappling gun. He vainly hoped he could catch it. Like a rock through the air, he fell with his hands out stretched. He prayed he wasn’t making the worst mistake ever.

Suddenly, he was stopped short. Everything else kept falling towards the ground, but he just hung in the air. Something had caught his leg.

Craning his neck, he saw a grappling line was wound around his right calf. "What the fuck?!" The line stretched up from there to a walkway. However, Jason couldn’t see whoever had caught him with the line. 

“Thanks for the save, but are you going to pull me up already?” He was trying to bring his breathing under control again. So, he probably sounded more than a bit angry, which he really wasn’t. He was just glad to not be a Robin-smear on the ground below.

A familiar high-pitched voice responded. “Little help, please!” The voice sounded strained as if it was difficult to just hold Jason's weight.

There was a sarcastic comment on his tongue as he bent upward to grab the line. He kept the comment for a moment. Instead, he focused on slowly but surely climbing the rope. When he finally got to the walkway, he grabbed the railing instead of the line. 

Pulling himself up, Jason peered over the railing. Even before his gaze fell upon his rescuer, he was sharing his sarcastic comment from before. “You sure do make the one being rescued do…” His words died on his tongue as his mouth fell open.

Jason just stared at the collapsed and disheveled form of Dick Grayson. The boy was gasping for breath as he still clutched tightly to a grappling gun. His flushed face was coated in soot and dirt. It looked only slightly better than his tattered Superman pajamas.  

A moment later, Jason’s shock wore off. In its place, Jason couldn't help the snort of amusement. He watched Dick try to wipe his face. The way he did it left the younger boy looking like he was wearing a lop-sided, black domino mask. Jason just burst out laughing.

Between very heavy breaths, Dick gave him a scowl. “What’s… so… funny? Didn’t I…. just save…?”

Pulling himself over the railing, Jason fell on the metal grating. He waved off Dick’s question as Jason tried to smother his laughter. “No. It’s not that. It’s just… I came to rescue you… and here you are rescuing me.” Touching a finger against his own forehead, he added, “I like the new mask.”

Automatically, Dick reached for his own forehead and touched it. He looked surprised by the soot. He blinked at it for a few seconds. Then, slowly a small smile crept over his flushed face. “Really?” He gave Jason an inquisitive look.

Reaching over, Jason ruffled the kid’s hair. “Yes. Very Robin.”

Both couldn’t help but laugh. For a long time, they let all the emotions of the day wash over them. It felt good to laugh. In truth, Jason had been needing this for the better part of the last three weeks. Too much had happened to them. He was glad it was finally over.

Before he could say as much to Dick, there was a thunderous boom. All Jason could think about was that something had exploded. Instinct took over for Jason. He leapt forward, grabbing Dick. In the same second, he draped his cape over both Dick and himself. After a couple minutes, Jason heard nothing else to indicate an explosion at the plant.

Thus, Jason dared to peek out from under his cape. Looking about, he saw no sign of any new fires or collapsed buildings. Even the main cooling silo was looking just as it had before.

Jason’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Then, he felt Dick give a sharp tug on his cape. “Jason, look!” He pointed out away from the Nuclear Power Plant Complex. “It’s the KGTH radio substation! It’s completely collapsed.” He gave Jason a worried look. “You don’t think…?”

Jason just swallowed nervously, hugging Dick very closely. “I don’t know.”

 

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. There's more to come still. I'm just fine tuning the next chapters. 
> 
> I'm not sure if it will be just a couple more chapters followed by short stories in this universe OR if I'll just turn this into a 20 chapter story. :/


End file.
